DO MALLARDS MOURN?

photos by PSC / 2011

So well camouflaged she was,
both of us spooked
when I wandered
too close to her nest

startled squawk, feathers flash,
unwieldy waddle, splash, mad paddle
she giving me a piece of her mind
for the unwelcome disturbance
my apologies, too late to appease 

Intruder now, I take advantage --
opportunity to capture some pictures
too good to pass up -- so I snap a few
photos of her progeny to be

could only estimate their numbers
from afar (ten, perhaps?) as they were so
tightly stacked, and I wanting only to
assure mama of my not unkind intentions

Imagining a photo journal, sequencing  
progression from fluff to flight,
ensuing visits, my approach more cautious
I keep my distance, she maintains her vigil,
a prudent peacekeeping, until  

days after, I find nest abandoned, 
eggs destroyed, vandalized;
a year later, I’m incapable, still,
of passing there without pause,

I wonder what happened to her
Did she make another nest? 
Lay another brood?
Does she mourn them still?